Poems from ceciliakinghorn

The Black (pt. 3) In the farthest field there is a deep pit A wound, proclaimed in the dusty outreaches Of sweeping grass element Which now...
                The Black (pt. 2) In seventeen years All the roots have settled The roots are strong, They breathe. In seventeen years Our...
                The Black (pt. 1) I am not sure what I was expecting Here; We have this- This potential And those who chip away at it With...